29 November, 2010

The 1000-watt guilt trip, and the 1000-mile bus trip.

Everytime I neglect my blog(s), the guilt ends up chipping away at me, like a gaudy chisel against smooth, solid marble. Yep, that's right; I'm marble. Yes, it's not the best feeling in the world, marble and chisel. Anyway, pressing on, even though this guilt within me sparks out, igniting my life and burning away at my heart...yes, I'm going to dissect the bus service today. Wooopdedoo, let's go.

I get the bus to school every single morning; I know, I know. So brave, yet so young :'] yeah, it's pretty eventful most days, and I have been getting it regularly for the past two and a bit years; this is my third gruelling, British, early-morning Winter. I get a ten-minute walk to the first bus top from my house, a fifteen-minute wait for said bus (the reliability of which will be called into question at a later date), a deliciously warm, comfortable twenty to twenty five-minute journey on a packed, sweaty, B.O-fragranced bus. What is it with public transport?! Is it a prerequisite that you have to have avoided cleanliness and basic human hygiene for at least three days before being allowed on? Because, and I say this with a startling amount of pride as well, I do not adhere to that quality. Sorry, digressing once more (that's me, baby). After said aromatic journey, I then have a twenty-minute walk (on a good day) up to school. This is all a rather straightforward routine, and one that I have been a mostly successful participant for the past two years. Being an innocent, naive country-bumpkin-type girl as I am made to feel, I can't help but wonder why said routine becomes infinately more difficult when the weather sets to extremes. To blessed little me, extreme weather is not a freak blizzard, or a horrendous tornado. Nope, give me anything below -5 and anyting about 20oc and I will start to FREAK. OUT. In Merrie Olde Englande, the weather is very much like the old-fashioned, stereotypical people that I still long to have in Britain...hot and cold. Fickle. Feckless. You get my drift. But yeah, anyway; it's not like I don;t know why it gets so cold, but what irritates me is that as soon as you slip into a routine, confortable and suitable enough to even make the Baltic Winters more bearable, the ridiculous Newbury Bus Service will go and change your bus route, time of arrival/departure at both ends and bus number. Apparently they need to achieve a perfect bus route to cover as much of the distance as possible, whilst fitting in with the daily Reading commute...(because of course, to little old Newbury, the big city of Reading is something to be looking upon in awe). I cannot believe that they needed to change it yet again. It's like, in Year Seven, every morning I took a certian bus route until it changed. This bus route, being the first one I ever took, was relatively easy to adapt to, but it really threw me when they changed it. Eventually, I managed to get used to it, and the next three times that they changed it, I got better. However, very recently (today in fact. Psshh), the wretched bus service changed MY morning bus, YET AGAIN. To the exact same one that I'd started getting at the beginning of Year Seven! They've coped without it for two years, TWO YEARS. And for some bizarre, ludicrous, pointless reason, they decide to change it back. I cannot comprehend the stupidity of these people. Please, if there is a God up there, grant everyone Common Sense. Before I hijack that godforsaken (whoops! Sorry...) bus, one fateful morning.

That's all; I think.

17 November, 2010

Behold! The blog of a traitor...and The Wave

I feel so guilty for what I'm about to say, but I think that the unforgiveable has happened...I'm warming to the new school! Scarecly two weeks into the new routine (albeit feeling like two years...) and I'm already streetwise (Hub wise?) and finding the new routine easier. It's because, I keep telling myself, I'm able to walk to each place with ease, and the routine makes each day seem shorter. But as I pass the old, dilapadated (or is it just me?) buildings each day, I can't help thinking that my soul has been taken by the clinical, sterile, gleaming school. I don't feel the same gutting remorse, the acute, burning injustice, looking towards Luker now, as I did then. After only two weeks, I'm settled. The teachers are still the same, the lessons are still the same...only, now it holds more allure because there are shiny new classrooms to attend and there's the added thrill of finding out that someone you know or like is having a lesson just across the hall from you, so you can wave discreetly to each other from both sets of thick glass doors, and the big industrial carpeted breakout space. Oh god, what's happening to me? I should go and lie on the glorious, grass-roofed panels and let my traitorous tears cascade romantically down the glass walls.

Now! In other news, next Wednesday, I've decided to become a member of the Hitler Youth for a day. To any of you who may be reading this and feel offended, please accept my apologies as I compell you to read on; hands up who has ever heard of The Wave? Right. That makes...no-one. At all. Phew, OK. Right, in 1961, there was a teacher from CA who decided it would be a good idea to teach his senior History class just how powerful the Nazi party could be; he made an organisation called The Wave, which came with a salute, and mottoes (''Strength Through Disipline, Strength Through Community''), which the members had to perform every time they saw the teacher. This also included exemplary unifrom, impeccable behaviour and respect for all the teachers, at all times. In my English class, we've just finished reading a Book Based On..., which today we finished (of course, I'd read ahead and finished it myself the second lesson in. Oh yeah, high-five for intellect). Our teacher gave us the task of coming up with a few creative ideas of which to assess our knowledge of the book and it's characters at the end of the unit. There were such suggestions as makinga short film, writing a newspaper article, making a dramatisation, hotseating the characters and doing quotation hunts in the book. My suggestion? Become a Nazi for the day. Which, I hasten to add, I'm allowed to do BUT none of my other teachers know, or any of my fellow students (aside from those in my English class). For one day, and one day only, (Next Wednesday, 24-11-10) I have to wear my uniform absolutely spotlessly, stand up and give short, concise answers in every lesson and enounciate clearly and sharply to everyone I happen to come across. Tally-ho, this should be fun. So NOW, I'm going to become a member of the Hitler Youth (not really...) for one day, in order to develop my understanding and empathy with the characters in the book. I shall then proceed to write a report at the end of the day, on teacer's reactions and how much it would've surprised them. I'll also post updates on this old thing, because this experiment is going to be rather interesting...

I shall speak to you merry lot in a few days' time. Goodnight, my friends! :)

11 November, 2010

Stuff WE hate.

This past week, I have been very hard at work, collecting people's pet hates and gathering them all, like a mystical elf gathering dew drops...without the pointy ears and curly shoes (not my bag). So here it is, what YOU all said you hated...

Racists- this is a paticular favourite, a lot of you said that you hated their attitude and their frame of mind, and to be honest, I can't really blame you...

Abusers- people who loash out and take out whatever negative moods they happen to be enduring.

Cheaters- it's the dishonesty and the feeling of loosing out, and the injustice that I think got you lot riled.

Two-faced people- can you trust them? Yes, every second Tuesday of the alternative months, and Feburary the 29th.

People who judge based on something they know nothing about- otherwise known as ignorance, or discrimination which admittedly is annoying.

Bad grammar/spelling- surely if you've taken the time to communicate with me in such a way other than talking, you can summon the energy to spell properly? Misspelling is not 'faster', you were taught the correct spelling at school, it should be instantaneous to your brain.

Liars- again, you can't trust them. It's pathetic, really.

Being labelled- it's a lot nicer to just...be. Rather than have a label that you have to adhere to darkening your horizon, just be what you want, when you want. Be something different everyday if you like :)

Boring, mainstream people- OK, these people you will find are usually very insecure and are scared of thinking for themselves in case they get it wrong, so they find that they can skip along with the herd and not have to think.

Closure work- we got loads on the days we missed from school. The teachers set us work 'accurate to an hour's lesson'. We never do that much work in a lesson! Wtf?

School- the monotony grinds you down into little, tiny pieces...

MFL teachers- a race of human beings whot hink that whatever rules apply to the rest of society, do not coincide with their lives. Pfft...

Tiredness- there's nothing worse than being so tired you can't properly function.

Hangovers- personally, I've never experienced such a thing, but I've always known them to be rough, horrid things :D

Fake people- underneath all that makeup and plastic clothing is a very lovely person, I'm sure.

Cheese- urgh! The taste is disgusting, so bitter.

Socks and sandals- so, you're cold enough to wear socks, but warm enough so you can wear sandals? What? Sandals let your feet 'breathe', which they fail to do through the middleman that is a sock.

Show-offs- you can do 30 whatever in under a minute? Good for you! I don't care...and neither does the general public, so toddle off home.

Whoever asked this dumbass question- oh, haha, very witty.

Never Shout Never- ah, they're not to everyone's tastes. But then again, everyone is WRONG.

Guitar strings/drum sticks breaking- I'm sure it would disrupt (at the very least) a practice or a gig you were partaking in, which could get annoying.

Drinking apple juice straight after brushing your teeth- ooooh. It tastes strange, and unfamiliar. Brain meltdown!! The same goes for Orange Juice, Coffee, and most food....

Being ill- although you get a day or two away from die schule (see School), it hampers pretty much whatever you want to do.

Being away from my girlfriend- ahhhhh! This is sweet! I feel the same, sometimes...when my heart works.

Spiders- they're just so...menacing! They dart everywhere, they don't do a slow, organised stroll so's to give you more time to catch the little so-and-so's. Meanies...

Vegetables- oh, to be five again...

Cold/rainy/windy weather- I'm skipping this one because to be honest, I like the aforementioned weather.

GSCE's- at the moment, a mere inky stain on the horizon of my life, soon to eclipse everything I do.

Small spaces- people tend to panic when they are confined, granted. We do take freedom for granted an awful lot.

The Tube in rush hour- so you're deep Underground, packed inside a rickety, speeding train, squashed in a hot, smelly, BO-fragrenced carriage. What's not to like?

The dark- so many things could be lurking out of your sight, ready to GET YOU.

Marmite- Ew ew ew. Sorry to be so juvenile but it really is skin-crawlingly disgusting.

Flees- they hope onto your skin and suck your blood. Mmm. Yummy.

Coriander- unnessecarily bitter. Maybe it got jilted harshly?

Curry- they either make it too spicy, or use the stringiest, oldest, mankiest bits of meat that it's possible to legally use in an eating establishment.

Lamb- meat is not supposed to taste of mint.

Roast beef- I agree that it is a lot stringier and fattier than chicken.

Heights- I think that it's the fear of falling into oblivion for about a minute before you hit the ground with your final sickening crunch.

Scarlett Johansson- look at her lips! Silly lips.

People that shop at Westfields- or, my own personal elaboration, many London shopping centres. The people seem to take off their manners, fold them up and place them delicately, like little cling-film sheets, by the sliding automatic (or revolving, depending on how far you've come in life) doors.

Rush hour people- ahh! I'm a loose cannon who's boss is going to string me up by the corners of my eyelids if I don't shove past you, steal your space on the Tube with reckless abandon and talk very loudly into my plastic little headset.

Strange, unidentified noises when you're trying to get to sleep- really? Do you really require expansion?

People who leave trolleys in awkward places- allow me to explain with a story. A few years ago, my Mum and I braved the hellish, milirtary-trained Saturday Shoppers (with CAPITALS) at a local Tesco's. Halfway down the bread aisle (and fighting tooth and nail every inch of the way), we can across a trolley parked at such an angle as to cause maximum upset and aisle gridlock. My Mum, a recipent of Trolley Rage, spat ''Who let that trolley in such a flaming stupid place?''. Who indeed...but the woman behind her. Woo! We insulted a stranger!

Maz pulling her nails- my cat has learnt a trick that she does only when my Mother enters the room (probably deilberately, she's a horrible cat really :L don't listen to my parents, she really is the Spawn of Satan. I swear), when she roughly pulls- with her teeth- the skin between each of her claws on the front paws, making a delightful snapping sound. OMNOMNOM.

Driving in the snow- we're your tires. Today, in lieu of the recent snowfall, we've decided that NO! We will not take the conventional (and some may say, safer) route, but instead pick the Black Ice road. The only road in the entire country, probably, with no natural light.

Snow and Ice- It looks pretty, but hurts like hell.

Spots- there is no point to them, they are completely unnessecary, and what's more they make you look about seven.

Working on the weekend- weekends are freedom! They spell lie-ins, no office politics, and no FOCUS required. Working on the weekends is probably against the Geneva Convention or something.

MillHill- a place where my poor auntie is working flat out currently, she says she can never go there again. Ever.

People who follow fashion religiously- the magazine is a Bible. Kate Moss is Jesus. Victoria Beckham is God. My, what a dull way to live your life.

Abbie Titmuss- what's she good for? Really?

Hollyoaks- on a par with The Jeremy Kyle Show, pointless, mind-numbing mush.

XFactor- see Hollyoaks.

Jedward- see Abbie Titmuss.

Go Compare adverts- it does not make me want to go onto your cleverly devised comparison website. It makes me want to shoot the ''Opera Singer'', then bleach my mind.

Cooked carrots- don't ask me, ask my auntie.

Parsnips- see Cooked carrots.

People who friend-dump you for no reason- it starts with a blanking, then a few missed phonecalls, then escalates dramatically from there. It's stupid, and annoying.

Children who steal my socks- this, a paticularly poignant controibution from my dear Mother, who hates my brother and I stealing her socks, and positively explodes when we give the standard excuse, radiating innocence, "Well, they were in my washing pile, so there".

Unnessecary swearing- it really isn't big or clevver, it just makes you sound uneducated.

People who own MacBooks or iBooks- this, my friends, is just pithy jealousy, I'm afraid. Still, can't be without it!

This is what you lot hate, so please go on to feel significantly enlightened. Also, why will no-one TwitterStalk me? I have loads of pageviews, yet only 12 followers :/

WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth. WisdomOfBeth.

THAT is my Twitter ID. ADD ME and give me feedback!! Please!

07 November, 2010

You can take my pride; but you cannae take my freedom!

I have school tomorrow! No! It's all very well going there for a couple of hours on Friday to slag it off to my parents and friends, but the prospect of almost an entire week is too daunting to fully contemplate. I hate it. I hate this school with all the passion, hatred and total emotion in my body. By the end of this week, I will be brainwashed and I will not know the meaning of freedom. You may think I'm being dramatic, but you just try and get a good look at the school :'| it's awful. It really is. I'm praying that the harsh English weather kicks in pretty soon because it looks like a gust of wind could blow the blessed thing away. This is awful, I don't know how my school swept so low. Sometimes this breaks my heart, because I remember how homely and welcoming the olds chool was, in comparison to this cold, unforgiving stucco excuse for a learning establishment. I'll have to work extra hard tomorrow to make my uniform stay in place- I understand that the faculty want to make a fresh start, that they need to set a predecent, to send a clear message; but they're going overboard on some of the proposed punishments.

05 November, 2010

Backwards and downwards.

Today, I went to visit my New School. I say New School with two capital letters, because that is all it has been referred to as by the (probably coked-up, judging by the state of it) teachers for the last year or so. As I mentioned in my post a couple of weeks back, I'm really going to miss the old buildings. I was only there for two and a bit years, so I feel like I have no right to miss it, but I do. Most of these overpaid, underused teachers spend most of their time ranting on about how much history our school represents and carries forward with each generation. Yeah? No. Not really. It makes me so ANGRY when our ''headteacher'' moans on sanctimoniously about what St. Barts stands for. How much more contradictory can you get, when you're stood at the front of the cream, clapboard Luker Hall in the new 'school' (mental asylum to those clued in), telling the students about the very first generation to walk those halls. The halls I'm still supposed to be walking in! It's not fair, along with this cheap glass-and-chrome excuse for a school comes a new set of rules reminiscent of those applied to the Hitler Youth. Everywhere, teachers lurk venimously with their beady eyes, pouncing on any poor unwitting student with the sheer cheek to walk along with their shirt untucked. Cor. Bearing in mind that today, I went to school with my iPod in, black-red nail polish on, black eyemakeup, untucked shirt and lollipop, I'm surprised they didn't throw me off the balcony into the 'Hub Space'. Yeah, that's another thing! What on God's Earth is a HUB SPACE?! It sounds like something from 28 Days Later. Take us to your plasterboard leader. Jaysus...

The story of my life (literally).

Once upon a time...no, wait. That's too cliche. OK. Um...on a dark, dark day...no, already been done. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. No, no, no! Urgh. Hang on.

Once, on a really quite dark, seasonally rainy night in early November, a baby girl was born. She was rather ordinary. Certainly, there was nothng abnormal about her. She was born in Shrewsbury, in Shropshire (the Midlands). At the time, both of her parents were still quite young, although they had always wanted a baby girl. Everyone said the normal, prerequisite baby stuff (oh, isn't she cute?! She has her Mum's eyes...). But, to be quite honest, she wasn't cute. Most of the time, she had a face like Jamie Oliver's Crushed Tomato Salsa, all scrunched up and red. Her toddlerhood and early childhood passed, both faily unremarkable, punctuated only with the birth of her little brother, almost two years on from her own. Over time, her family did move to a lot of places, and she went to several new schools. Subsequently, far from being emotionally damaged, she is in fact reluctantly social; meaning, she doesn't want to be. She just can't help being so damned popular (HEAVY IRONY HEAVY IRONY HEAVY IRONY). Eventually, the family settled down in a place called Burghfield, for three or so years. In that time, they made a few friends, got back in touch with old ones, and went to a nice school. Wahoo! No. Not really. They moved to Thatcham, which admittedly looks pretty at Christmas. And besides, it's not that bad once you get used to the smell of cigarette smoke. No, it really isn't that bad. Unfortunately, not many of the family's friends live close to Thatcham, so they're pretty lonely. But it's cool, because both of the children are the epitome of antisocial anyway, so it's fine. The son just loves the PS3, and the daughter is quite happy just hanging around with her boyfriend mostly. So it's all fine. And they go to a nice-ish school too. To conclude, wahoo!

04 November, 2010

Stuff I hate.

I don't know why, but lying in my lonesome bed last night, pondering the myths of the universe, I somehow ended up compiling a mental list of things thst really rile me. You know, there are just some things that cause you to clench your jaw and narrow your eyes, both at once if it's especially bad. So I thought I'd make a list of what causes ME to do the aforementioned actions. The ones I REALLY hate will be in bold (because I'm just that efficient, you see), and I'm going to do what I sometimes do and encourage you to tweet at me (WisdomOfBeth on Twitter, remember!) with what YOU hate. I'll give you a week, and then I'll put up a revised post of what everyone else hates too. Thank you! Let's begin...
I hate:

Backstabbing people- they'll pretend to be your friend and either use you or at the last minute spread some horrible gossip about you that you've been stupid enough to confide in with them.

Gossiping people- they bounce up to you all gleeful and say, 'Oh! Guess what so and so did last week/night/month/year'. It's just not right. We have Facebook for that.

People who want you to change- they make it clear that they don't like you for you, and they want you to be more like them. It's a shame really, that they're the ones who need to change if they don't like you for you.

Teachers- some of them are the diamonds in the rough, they're shining strars. Most of them let the side down and are horrible, mean, pedantic, patronising, and uniform-Nazi's.

Fake people- they're so unreal they aren't even human. All this fake, fake, fake. And for what?! So people will fall in love with the make-up, and the slutty clothes? No. No way.

School- it's unrelentless! Everyday you are forced into cruel seven-hour periods with people you hate. It's not the learning, that I'm good at. It's the people I have to learn WITH.





Bonfire Toffee (Cinder Toffee)


Really, really dark chocolate

Greasy hair


Too many piercings

Really untidy places

When it's just finished raining and the Sun comes out, because it's really warm but the ground is soaking wet


Being ill

People I love dying

Or being ill

Or hurting me

Or hurting themselves

Or lying

Or repeatedly having their hearts broken

Hurting myself

Embarassing myself


Cheap flowers

Fake tears

Bad poetry

Bad novels

People who describe themselves as 'mental'

People who feel the need to labour a point into submission (putting a drawing pin in with a sledgehammer)

I can't really think of anything else at the moment. Please, please, please Tweet me, because I want to know what you guys hate as well. It can be anything; clothing, types of people, social situations, food, anything! But please, no racism. It's not big, or clever. Not cool!

03 November, 2010

More blog feedback, and more pontification.

Right, well. It's been a few days (I think. I can't keep up nowadays, I just post when I feel like it, which is admittedly often) since my last post, and in that time I've also been checking my Stats (woohoo!) and spreading the word; I want as many people as possible to read my thoughts and meaningless chirping. Oh I do enjoy making you lot think. Thinking is so underrated these days, there's not very much to think about really. We've got machines to think for us nowadays, so we don't overexert ourselves. Waha! Anyway.

I love it when I check my stats (every morning, religiously. About the only thing I am meticulous about, really.) because I'm able to see how many people have checked out which posts, at whatever time. Which means that I am in turn able to see what the most popualr topics are, that you guys like. Which in turn in turn means that hopefully I'll pull in more pageviews :)
I have vaguely asked around friends, telling them to go on my blog, and then getting feedback, all of which has been surprisingly positive. Some of them have even spread it round- my hopes are that it becomes viral, I have a lot to teach the human race, and you have a lot to learn from me.

Ahhhhhh. Another thing I love is thinking. I don't do it very much, only when I'm back in my humble wooden chair pounding mercilessly away at my keyboard. Wahoo. No, that does mean I don't think in school either. Most of the teachers don't notice, bless their little cottons.
Pfft. I've been thinking that recently, for whatever reason, I've been noticing more and more people protesting that they dislike their lifestyle/are dissatisfied with some aspect of themselves etc. and I can't help but think, from an outsider's perspective, why don't you do something then> That comment was obviously just vanity, because I do not believe for a second that you really despise yourself enough to change. In fact, I think that you only do it to vouch sympathy. Do you (yes, you. Yes, YOU) dislike yourself? Are you plagued with unexpected wishes to be somebody else? Really? I don't think so. Because if you were really that fed up, you'd be crying. In a ditch. Near Leeds. You would not have a laptop with internet connection, you would probably not even know this blog adress. You most CERTAINLY not would be reading it, probably crying into the dirt.

Don't take your life and yourself in vain. You like you just the way you are. Face it. And once you do, half the battle's won. Goodnight.

01 November, 2010

Utopia? Now THERE'S an idea.

Without wanting to sound maudlin (oh, who am I kidding? I thrive on it) I'm sick of arguing. I do it all the time nowadays, so it seems. With my boyfriend, with my ''friends'', God knows with my family. I know it's all part and parcel of growing up, it's just hormonal imbalance and about a million and one other cliches that make me sick to my stomach. It doesn't make it any easier! It's not fair how I'm expected to always UNDERSTAND. If someone (one of the aforementioned people most likely. They invade my LIFE) says something I don't agree with, (you probably know what's coming next. All together now...) I say so. That doesn't make me rude, or stupid or insolent. It makes me brave and honest. If someone was enver honest to you, you would hardly know each-other, each one being as wrapped up in lies as a freaking onion. I'm just sick of all of this. And if my parents are reading this right now, they're going to call me downstairs to comment on what I'm about to write, so here goes nothing; I know I'm selfish, lazy and a pain sometimes. But surely, as you two have been through all of this, you knew it was coming? I'm flattered that you thought enough of me to assume that I would surely bypass this phase, but clearly I haven't, and I know you don't like it. Sometimes, you can be a bit hypocritical, a bit annoying. I know it's all for the greater good, but when I show ''attitude'', it's always because I'm insolent, never because I have a justified reason, isn't it? And I'm too- well, not afraid, because I know that you'd iunderstand- I'm too...apprehensive, I think is the word. Yes, I like that, let's go with apprehensive. I'm too apprehensive to say something about it, and my combined distress at this and getting (in my humble opinion) an unjust lecture for whatever the occurance is, is normally (and unfortunately) characterised by sighing, eye-rolling and cold-shouldering. It's my fault, I know, for being less approachable, I suppose. But then again, it's not fair on me to have to sufer it every single time. You two (my parents, still) are the traditional, (and might I add very successful and kind? It might lessen my grounding) firm-but-fair followers, so surely you should demonstrate this ability? Urgh. This isn't coming out right, so I'll move on. My little brother! We (you and I) were put on this planet to wind up and confilct with, each-other. But sometimes (and especially of late) you have been commenting on stuff I do or say, knowing full well that I can't retaliate for fear of getting into trouble. Why do you do it? I admit I wind you up to a gold standard, and sometimes I go too far. But I always apologise. You just shut yourself in your room with Escape The Fate and continue to act blameless. Just stop, OK? Because it's not fair. And tell me, if I've done something to deserve this, tell me! Because I'm sorry. OK? I really am.
I don't think you (my friends and my boyfriend), no matter how lovely you all are, comprehend my moodiness sometimes. Charles, you just use the 'shut up and get out; technique, which admittedly is the most diplomatic, and I do understand. But you play it cool so often I'm starting to think you just don't care. And, if this makes any sense, you probably don't care that I think you don't care. But you know how much we love each-other (excuse us a moment, my dear readers), and soemtimes i just don't see any of that shine through. You are an explicably amazing boy, and the best friend and boyfriend I hvae ever known; you're kind, funny, intelligent, witty, loyal, caring and gorgeous! You're damn near perfect to someone like me, but that just makies me even more determined to stay closer to you. When I say forever, no matter whetehr you know this or not, I mean it. Things could change as I get older, and indeed as you too grow more mature, but right now, on the 1st November, 2010, at aprox. 21:35 GMT, I love you more than anything in the world, and I cannot phsyically imagine my life in the future without your beaming, purple-topped head grinning back at me. You really have no idea, do you babe? Nope. And as for my friends, forgive me if I find it difficult to trust you. As I've previously said, I've never been beaten up, nothing serious-serious have ever happened (i.e meriting the involvement of the Police, senior authority figures and the like), but I'm used to the bitching. I'm used to the rumours, the catcalls. I'm used to the whispers, and the backstabbing. And sometimes I wish I didn't have uch an extensive knowledge of that, I can scarcely trust any of you, truth be told; some of you have openly admitted to me that none of your other friends like me, which in turn puts pressure on me. I want to keep you as my friend, but I don't want you to end up being hated the same as myself. Others of you just get too carried away with it all, and end up being too easily moulded into the perfect shape of someone else. It's a shame, because you just tear evermore holes in the little trust I still have.

Of course, I love all of you. I do, but sometimes, I just...AAAAARGH.

I appreciate that a lot of you have got bigger, bigger problems, which I know you have. I understand, whole-heartenedly, especially as I know some or omst of these problems, but I'm just trying to get off my chest something which wears me down. It's not funny anymore, I can't just brush this off. As I said, I love you all, but I can't help feeling like this. It's natural, and I'm nowhere near perfect. Sorry.